Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
on the staff of Barrios. The eldest, a worthless fellow of a moody disposition, filled Sulaco with the noise of his dissipations and gambled heavily at the club. The two youngest boys, with yellow Ribierist cockades in their caps, sat on the front seat. She, too, affected not to see the Señor Decoud talking publicly with Antonia in defiance of every convention. And he not even her novio as far as the world knew! Though, even in that case, it would have been scandal enough. But the dignified old lady, respected and admired by the first families, would have been still more shocked if she could have heard the words they were exchanging.
"Did you say I lost sight of the aim? I have only one aim in the world."
She made an almost imperceptible negative movement of her head, still staring across the street at the Avellanos's house, gray, marked with decay, and with iron bars like a prison.
"And it would be so easy of attainment," he continued, "this aim which, whether knowingly or not, I have always had in my heart—ever since the day when you snubbed me so horribly once in Paris, you remember."
A slight smile seemed to move the corner of the lip that was on his side.
"You know you were a very terrible person, a sort of Charlotte Corday in a school-girl's dress; a ferocious patriot. I suppose you would have stuck a knife into Guzman Bento?"
She interrupted him. "You do me too much honor."
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